


Touchstone

by Jena Bartley (jenab)



Category: Poltergeist: The Legacy, Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 16:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2658248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenab/pseuds/Jena%20Bartley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The t-shirt was old and worn</p><p>Set during season two of Supernatural.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touchstone

The t-shirt was old and worn. Threadbare in places with the colour more dark gray than black. It once pulled tight across Dean’s shoulders and chest, but repeated washing had stretched it out, leaving it to hang loose. Pulling it out of his duffle bag, Dean knew he would soon have to throw it away. For now he pulled it on, needing the comfort of it. 

Over the years, the shirt had become a sort of touchstone. A remembrance of happier times, of home and love and security, and being surrounded by his family and friends. For a couple of years, the San Francisco Legacy House had been home, at least as close to the ideal of home he remembered before his mom was killed. 

Right now he needed that reminder. Dad was nothing more than ashes now, leaving him and Sam alone in the world. Leaving Dean filled with an empty pit inside him and the weight of his father’s final words hanging heavy on his shoulders. He wanted to rage at the world, to scream at John for dying on him and Sammy, leaving them behind with only Dean knowing what Sam really was. 

Instead he pulled on a flannel shirt over the t-shirt, fingers trailing over the soft cotton, remembering early mornings with the fog rolling across Angel Island, a huge bed with soft sheets, and the smell of homemade breakfast wafting out from the kitchen. Or Nick out on the lawn, moving gracefully through a martial arts form Dean didn’t recognize, the mist curling around his feet, his clothes damp with sweat and dew. 

The memories filled him, letting Dean escape for a moment into the sight of Nick just stepping out from a shower, or the mock indignation in his voice as he caught Dean scavenging through his closet again. Or the way Nick’s smell permeated the t-shirt Dean stole just before they left the Legacy House for good. 

More than anything, Dean wanted to call Nick, to ask him to come out to them, to feel Nick’s arms around him again.


End file.
